


Lashes

by sawbones



Series: show your dog the whip [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BDSM, Blood, Humiliation, Hux has a lot of feelings, Light Bondage, M/M, Pain, Sadism, That's Not Healthy, Whipping, dom!hux, ruined orgasm, sub!Kylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:25:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6216202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawbones/pseuds/sawbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They deal with the loss of Starkiller Base in their own ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lashes

**Author's Note:**

> A brief sequel to Ashes, since people seemed interested. It can be read on its own though, there's not much plot.
> 
> Thank you to [myselenoscope](http://myselenoscope.tumblr.com) on tumblr for proof-reading.

General Hux - commander of the first Starkiller Base, officer at the helm of the prized Finalizer, trusted agent of Supreme Leader Snoke, and one of the most powerful people  in the First Order – had not gotten to where he was by being a petty, petulant man. He was clever and ambitious, but not without control; he leant himself to reason over passion, and was considered by many (himself included) to be one of the brightest minds of his generation. He didn’t throw tantrums, he wasn’t one to shirk responsibility, and he certainly had neither the time nor energy for anything quite so _lowbrow_ as keeping a grudge.

It had taken him a few days but he had come to realise that losing the base wasn’t as big a failure as it had felt stood on the bridge and watching the planet collapse in on itself moments after plucking Kylo from the snow. Three decades of history as the cold beating heart of the First Order, and several years of Hux’s life work—snuffed out in blinding flash of light that threatened to envelope the Finalizer before they could slip away. They might very well never find another planet so suited to housing the super weapon, which of course would be rebuilt in time, but it had done its job. An entire system was gone and the Republic scum would be crippled by its loss; in her usual tactful manner, Phasma suggested thinking of it less like a gun and more like a grenade.

Of course that didn’t mean it hadn’t been catastrophic, and that there wouldn’t be consequences. Once he was assured Kylo was alive and on board Supreme Leader Snoke’s reaction had been moderate, in the sense that Hux yet lived and with all of his body part roughly where they ought to be. He would still spend the rest of his days sleeping with one eye open but nevertheless, the general acknowledged his personal failings and those of the men under his command. Even if the events leading to the destruction of the base were directly Ren’s fault – the recklessness of his hunt for the Skywalker map, being repeatedly confounded by his prisoners, his inability to even defeat some sand-scum scavenger girl – they should have planned for it, should have been able to compensate for it. It was a bitter pill to swallow but there was work to be done, and swallow it he did.

So why was it, when faced with Kylo Ren strung up by the wrists in the middle of his quarters nearly a fortnight after Starkiller had fallen, he wanted little more than to flog him until the man’s throat was hoarse from screaming and skin flayed from his back?

Hux circled him slowly like a shark in bloodied water; he was in his full black uniform sans cap and greatcoat, while Ren was completely naked but for a cloth gag. He’d been hauled onto the balls of his feet by a sturdy rope, bound by his wrists and secured to a coolant pipe behind a displaced ceiling panel. He’d been there for quite a while already, since Hux had left him to stew over what was to come while he saw to the last of the day’s business; Ren’s shoulders were likely aching already, his calves protesting too at being forced to stand on tiptoe for so long. Hux had to wonder if being stretched taut was making his bowcaster wound – so recently and rapidly healed – ache. He hoped it did.

“I have done so much for you. _Lost_ so much for you,” Hux said, his voice deceptively soft. He let a hand brush against the knight’s stomach as he stopped in front of him, and enjoyed the way the muscles jumped under his touch, “I will continue to do so for as long as the Supreme Leader asks it of me.”

Ren swallowed thickly around his gag and couldn’t look Hux in the eye; his cheeks were flushed, his shoulders were shaking with the strain and he was half hard already just from this. Hux trailed his hand up Ren’s abdomen to rest against his chest, admiring the aesthetics of a black leather glove against trembling white skin. He was coolly composed but his anger needled him, hot and sharp just below his skin in a way that made him want to tear off his gloves and rake red lines down that chest. He resisted – for the time being.

“What do I get for my sacrifices? My loyalty? A liability. An incompetent child of a man who can’t control himself, who can’t pick up his own messes, who can’t even complete the simplest of tasks. Oh, and this,” Hux reached down and gave Ren’s cock a painful squeeze, cause the man to jerk and grunt, “Not that it’s any sort of compensation.”

Hux could feel the heat of Ren’s cock even through his gloves and tried to ignore the prickle of interest from deep in his gut as the knight rocked his hips forward, wanting more. Hux squeezed again, and wondered how much damage he could do before invisible fingers closed around is windpipe.

“You threaten everything I have worked for, and in turn you threaten everything the First Order stands for, and yet—“ Hux watched Ren’s face closely as he began to stroke him; those dark eyes struggled to focus on him, and the general bit down on his tongue hard enough to hurt because the next words past his lips was nearly _I am to serve you_. This wasn’t serving him, he had to remind himself; it was serving Snoke, it was serving the First Order, it was his duty, it was infuriating, it was—it was intoxicating, really, as Ren moaned softly, his gag already soaked through with drool. He wasn’t being gentle; finesse was not his aim. There was more than one way to pull a man apart.

Hux grabbed Ren by the jaw with the hand that wasn’t presently working his cock in slow steady strokes, forcing him to meet his gaze. He resisted at first, like he didn’t want to dip below Hux’s ice to the seething below, though Hux was quite sure he didn’t need to be Force sensitive to feel it radiating off him in waves. He tightened the grip of both hands and watched dark lashes flutter desperately in response; Ren’s fingers curled in the air above his head and he was struggling to keep the weight off his arms as his legs trembled. Hux moulded himself to his heaving chest, bringing their faces close enough that he could feel Ren’s breath on his cheek, and for a moment he consider kissing or biting him – he didn’t really know which, the feelings more alike than they should have been. Either way he bared his teeth.

“All that strength, all that _fucking_ potential. You should be the most powerful man in the galaxy but you’re nothing without Snoke,“ Hux hissed against Ren’s mouth, “Without me.”

The pace of his strokes was faster now, harder, his grip almost punishing. The muscles in Ren’s jaw strained as he bit down to stop himself from moaning again, and there was something about that Hux couldn’t help but see as a challenge. He would have him screaming before the hour was done, he thought to himself as he traced a leather-clad thumb over Ren’s spit-slick bottom lip, causing the knight to shudder. He loathed that he could read the signs so easily, but by the way Ren’s breath was hitching, he was close; Hux let go mid-stroke and stepped away just as Ren was about to cum, leaving him to squirm through a weak and wholly unsatisfying orgasm if the wounded noise he made was any indication.

“Another mess for me to clean up,” Hux spat with a sneer, observing the semen streaking the floor by his boots. He grabbed Ren’s cock and squeezed viciously, causing him to grunt in discomfort as he leaned in close again, “I will hear your thanks this time.”

He released him and pushed him hard, causing Ren to lose balance and drop his weight on his abused shoulders; this time the grunt of discomfort was more like a muffled yelp of pain, twice as satisfying. Hux parted his jacket and unbuckled his belt, pulling it free with one hand and tugging Ren’s gag down past his chin with the other. He moved behind him again, back to where he had began, and stared at the pale expanse of skin presented to him as he coiled the leather strap in his hands. In a single fluid motion, Hux swung the belt overhead and brought it down across Ren’s back with a whistle and a crack, causing him to twist and inhale sharply.

“I said I _will_ hear you this time or so help me Ren, I’ll leave you there all night and you can tell the medbay in the morning why you have two dislocated shoulders,” Hux barked when he realised he hadn’t gotten the reaction he was looking for. The answering silence made his lip curl in disgust and he responded with a sharp kick to the back of a knee, causing Ren to drop again.

“Thank you,” Ren choked out, his voice hoarse and nearly breathless as he struggled to get his feet back under him.

“Thank you, what?”

“Thank you, _General_.”

Already there was a clean red line blooming across his back, and when Hux struck him again he aimed to lay it perfectly on top of the first. Ren’s thanks was out of his mouth before the leather had even left his skin this time, louder than before. There was something about the tightness of his throat and the way he jerked with each lash that spurred Hux on further, whipping him again and again until his back was a mess of purple-tinged welts.

“I despise you, you know that?” Hux said, pacing tightly, taking two steps one way and two steps the other as he twisted the belt in his grip. His hands were shaking, his face was burning with anger; he pushed back the hair that had fallen into his face in his thrashing, “I _hate_ you. I hate every fucking thing about you. If I was to slit your throat right now, I would be doing the Order a favour—and you’d let me, wouldn’t you? That’s the worst thing, you’d fucking _let me_.”

Ren was silent, of course. His head hung low as though he was unconscious but Hux could tell he was still awake; he had simply accepted the pain, the punishment, and was waiting for it to end. Nothing could have infuriated Hux more. Without saying one word more he turned the belt around and struck Ren as hard as he possibly could with the buckled end; the second lash split the skin across on of his shoulders and when Hux swung the belt again, it left a fine arc of blood on the wall and ceiling.

Hux didn’t stop when he saw blood; he didn’t stop when Ren had ceased his pained whimpers, or when it was likely he really was unconscious this time. In fact, he only stopped when the ache in his own shoulders became too great to ignore. Forehead beaded with sweat, his undershirt sticking to him, Hux dropped the rank strap on the floor and observed his work. Ren’s back was slick with blood, and it seeped in slow fat beads down his thighs like condensation on a window. From hip to shoulder there was hardly an inch of skin that wasn’t marked somehow, as well as a few errant stripes across his ass.

Hux felt sick. He turned away from Ren for a moment and took several deep steadying breaths before he pushed the hair from his face a second time, trying to smooth himself down inside and out. He took a small folding knife out of his pocket – positively archaic, he knew, like the rough cord around Ren’s wrists and the belt on the floor and everything else about the whole bloody mess – and cut Ren free, taking the full weight of the limp-limbed man with a small stagger. He half-carried, half-dragged him over to the bed and laid him face down with a small grimace at the thought of his bedding. He left him there while he fetched a damp towel and a small standard issue medical kit from the refresher. The medbay did not have to deal with this, no matter what he’d threatened earlier.

Ren barely stirred as Hux patted off the worst of the blood with the towel and then sprayed the raw mess underneath with—well, he assumed it was some sort of disinfectant, possibly a liquid bandage. The bottle was unlabelled, and he’d never had call to use it before. He then draped the stained towel over him in the vain hope it would soak up any blood that hadn’t clotted already and perhaps save his sheets.

Hux tossed his jacket and sweat-damp shirt over a near-by chair and looted a cigarette from the silver case on the table; he sat on the bed beside Ren, swung his legs up and leaned against the wall as he lit the cigarette and took a drag. He felt odd, sort of light and heavy at the same time, like he’d had his insides spaced and the vacuum filled with something else. His arms and back hurt from the effort of the beating, and there was a familiar sort of pain blooming just behind his eyes, but most of all—most of all he wanted to scream.

He took another draw and looked down at Ren, let the smoke escape from between his teeth as he considered what to do with him. Ren turned his head to press his face against Hux’s thigh and the General froze. He didn’t know Ren had woken up at some point, and wondered if he had been awake the whole time; his first instinct was to tell him to _get out_ but he held his tongue instead.  The urge to scream grew a little as spidery fingers curled in the fabric of his dress trousers, and slowly, hesitantly, Hux took his free hand and brought it to rest on Ren’s head. He stroked his hair, let his fingertips brush his ear and the side of his neck.

For a moment Hux thought Ren was shaking again, but he wasn’t: he was crying. It felt like a punch to the gut.

“Why do you let me do this to you?” Hux asked, pulling his hand away like he’d just been burned. It was his way of apologising. Ren’s response was lost, muffled against his thigh, but it sounded suspiciously like ‘I’m sorry’. Hux stubbed the cigarette out in the dish beside the bed and got up, went to the refresher and locked himself inside. He couldn’t deal with—that, whatever that was. Not tonight.

He turned on the shower and took his time washing the evening off his skin, and when he came out again Ren was gone. The ceiling tile had been put back in place, his belt was gone, even the cum on the floor had been wiped away. The only signs Ren had even been there was the dirty towel and the specks of blood on his bed. Hux reached out and ran his fingers over the blood stains, tacky and half dry. He couldn’t sleep on that. He couldn’t sleep at all. He _couldn’t_.

Hux grabbed the sheets and pulled them off the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on another Kylux fic not part of this series at the moment, but if I did do a sequel to this, what would you like to see in it kink-wise?


End file.
